The morning was already heavy with heat as Jacob made his way down the winding path toward Mike’s cabin. He hadn’t seen Mike in a while, not since when Jacob had told him he was going to the Finth’s. But if there was anyone who could help him decode the symbol’s true meaning, it was Mike.The cabin sat quiet at the edge of a small clearing, half-swallowed by the trees. Smoke no longer curled from the chimney. The front door was shut, and the woodpile by the side was stacked high, freshly chopped.But no one answered when Jacob knocked.He waited, then walked round the cabin, peering through the window.The coffee pot was still warm. Boots missing from their usual place by the door.Jacob stood back, rubbing the back of his neck.“Hunting,” he muttered. “Of course.”Mike was always chasing deer or boar this time when he was still with him he figured, more meat meant more coin before the first frost. He’d probably be back before sundown, hauling game on his back like he always did Jaco
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